Two hours elapsed as Elizabeth and Georgiana practiced on the pianoforte together, talking and laughing in sisterly companionship. Lizzy urgently needed to stretch her legs, the sunny day beckoning to her. Georgiana opted to go for a ride, so the women parted for the latter half of the afternoon. Lizzy confiscated a bucket from the kitchen, visiting briefly with Mrs. Langton and the girls, before she set off. On one of her earlier excursions abroad, she had discovered a copse of dewberries approximately a half mile north on the main road. It was perhaps a week or two premature, but in hopes that a few might be ripe and aware that Darcy adored them, Lizzy set off in their direction.

Her route took her along the main Pemberley avenue to the northwest across the bridge, a good mile by itself. There was a path that led diagonally through the woods to the north beside the river, but Darcy had cautioned her to avoid it in the winter, as it was no more than a narrow deer trail and not well maintained. She strolled leisurely, her spirits soaring additionally with each step she took. By the time she was halfway down the drive she was humming and swinging her bucket like a young girl.

She arrived at the berry thicket, delighted to note that although they were mostly green, there was an ample supply of ripe berries. She continued to hum and sing softly as she picked, actually perspiring in the increasing warmth. Her mind wandered to her husband incessantly as she formulated plans for their evening together. The madness of their argument must be put behind them and, as she envisioned all the titillating ways to make up, her flush increased. Feeling slightly light-headed from the unexpectedly balmy day and her licentious musings, Lizzy tucked her partially filled bucket under her arm and set off for home.

She had crossed the road and taken her first steps south when she heard the rattle of carriage wheels and horses from behind her. She moved to the edge and halted, prepared to amiably greet whoever was approaching, but her brilliant smile froze on her face when she beheld the leering visage of the Marquis of Orman.

He reined his chaise to a halt next to her. “Why, Mrs. Darcy, what a delightful surprise this is! May I inquire as to your health this fine afternoon?”

“I am quite well, thank you, Lord Orman. I trust you are the same?”

“Perfectly delightful, I daresay. What errand brings you out here unescorted, Mrs. Darcy?”

“Merely walking on this fine afternoon, as you pointed out, and collecting dewberries for Mr. Darcy.”

“What a thoughtful wife you are, Madame. Darcy is a fortunate man indeed.”

“We are mutually fortunate. I shall not delay you any further, Marquis. Good day to you.” Lizzy curtseyed and turned to resume her walk.

“Mrs. Darcy, may I offer the services of my carriage? It is warm today and you appear quite flushed.”

“I assure you I am fine and, if you remember, I revealed to you that I enjoy walking, so thank you, but no.” She took several steps before she realized that he was alighting from his vehicle.

“Mrs. Darcy,” he called to her and she stopped, “I would like to take this opportunity, if you will allow, to apologize for my behavior at the Masque. It was inexcusable and I am deeply remorseful. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

She glanced at him, flushing at the reference to that horrible event, and extremely uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Lizzy was by nature a forgiving person and, despite Darcy’s assertions as to the exact nature of Orman’s character, she wanted to believe he was truly repentant. She smiled slightly and again briefly met his eyes. “Let us not speak of that occasion, My Lord. It is best to put such unpleasantness behind us.”

“Excellent!” he exclaimed cheerfully, “Then, as all is forgiven, you can accept my offer for a ride. Come, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Again, thank you, sir; however, I honestly do prefer to walk. Good day, Marquis.”

She curtseyed yet again and began to turn, flabbergasted afresh when he grasped her elbow firmly. “I must insist, dear lady. Your feet are drenched with mud and your face is ruddy and perspiring. You appear unwell. What manner of a gentleman would I be to leave an ailing woman stranded on the roadside?” His smile was lecherous, and Lizzy was seriously apprehensive but also angry.

“Lord Orman, unhand me at once and leave me be. I wish to walk, and Mr. Darcy would certainly not be pleased to hear of your attentions.” She shook her arm but he tightened his grip painfully.

“Is Darcy the only man worthy of your attentions, Mrs. Darcy?” He roughly pulled her toward him while leaning into her body and she realized with dawning horror that he intended to kiss her! Without conscious contemplation, Lizzy acted. She resisted forcefully and swung the wooden bucket with astonishing velocity and accuracy, smashing it into his head. He yelled and released her elbow. Lizzy spun and bolted into the woods without a backward glance, dropping her bucket of purple berries on the road.

Lizzy ran in a blind panic for some fifteen minutes as she zigzagged among the trees and heavy underbrush. She wasted no effort on glancing behind her to see if Orman followed, her mind conjuring an image of him capturing her in the emptiness of the wood so terrifying that she was spurred by a burst of energy.

However, as young and athletic as Lizzy was, even she eventually reached the end of her endurance. Gasping and wheezing, she stiffly plastered her body to the rearward side of an enormous pine and cautiously peeked behind her. Nothing. The wood, except for her panting, was silent. Nonetheless, she remained still for another ten minutes as she caught her breath and slowed her erratic heartbeat.

Only as her terror of Orman subsided was she able to contemplate her current predicament. Lizzy was gifted with an excellent sense of direction, so even though she had careened crazily and the tall trees effectively blotted the sun, she felt fairly certain she had taken a roughly easterly course. This meant she would need to turn to her right, south, to reach the Pemberley thoroughfare. She did not think she had crossed the deer trail in her wild dash, so hopefully she would find it now. It was getting late in the afternoon and, with the thick trees, darkness would fall rapidly in the wood. With a last careful inspection of the area behind her, she set off.

For a half hour she walked. The forest was damp, murky, and far colder. The sweat on her skin cooled and she began to shiver. Just as the edges of panic crept over her, she stumbled upon a deep ravine with a briskly flowing river at the bottom and the straight outlines of a trail running clearly alongside. Lizzy inhaled loudly and closed her eyes in relief.

She stood there for a spell, breathing deeply of the mingled aromas of earth and pine. Her mind now unclouded by panic, she allowed herself to meditate on all that had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. William’s treasured face floated before her and she smiled. She ached to hold him. She was humiliated by her actions and comprehended the magnitude of forgiveness she did not deserve from him, yet knew he would grant without hesitation. Such is the love he bore for her.

Tears sprung freshly to her eyes at how blessed she was to have him in her life. She closed her eyes once more and imagined his fingers touching her face and his lips on hers. She could hear his voice in her head and she trembled. Her hands spread over her abdomen and she wondered. Oh, please, Lord, she thought, let the root of my sickness and moodiness be a blessing. She fleetingly pondered how she would tell him about Orman and then pushed the thought aside. No unhappy thoughts, Lizzy. Just William.

Her heavenly reverie was sharply interrupted by a crashing from behind her, accompanied by a hideous warbling sound. She pivoted in fright and involuntarily took a step backward, one foot catching on an exposed tree root at the edge of the ravine while the other slipped in the loose mud. She flailed her arms but there was nothing to grab. Her last conscious thought as she tumbled over the edge of the ravine, her shoe violently wrenched from her foot, was how William would laugh at her being spooked by a turkey.

“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!”

Darcy glanced up from where he was standing in the yard before the cotton mill and into the frantic face of a young stable boy named Mathais, who was galloping full tilt toward him. He frowned as Mathais reined in, nearly pitching over the head of the horse. He grabbed at the bridle. “Whoa, girl! Steady there. Mathais what is the…”